marie cries to herself at the window
The weekend already? How odd. I suppose that's why happy drunken people were setting off fireworks last night, at ten, as I fell asleep with twilight still in the air; and now I've woken, again at ten, in the sun. God, and maybe not even God, knows why I needed twelve hours of sleep—this part of the book is really exacting a toll from me, and a bag of walnuts is probably not a balanced diet. On the plus side, if this continues I will never know night again. I have no reason to be out after dark.
Ambivalence.babakoto.org has a little black raincloud hovering over it—it is a well-spoken black raincloud, occasionally a German raincloud. With so many of us pecking away at our novels, will someone not strike gold?
